


Who's a good boy?

by orphan_account



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Suggestive Themes, collars and hoxton being dom woops, pet play... sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: To be fair, Houston was the one who approached Hoxton with the idea - albeit tentatively knowing full well he could blackmail him if he so pleased.He hadn't actually expected him shoot him a smile as sharp as a razor... and agree.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this wonderful SFM piece I stumbled upon and just... had to write something for: http://some-creep.tumblr.com/post/157339871466/hox-is-just-perf-also-dom-hox-is-just-yes
> 
> Depending on the reviews of it and whatnot, I could be persuaded to write more er. Porn.
> 
> My blog: charspurpletooran.tumblr.com

The collar fit snug around his throat, the padding lining the inside soft enough to have Houston hum in appreciation at the craftsmanship. Then, wonder why the hell the man that had put it on him, had a collar to begin with. But only for a moment. It didn't take long for him to remember who was on the other end of the chain, Hoxton reeling him in with a sharp tug and leaving the ghost stumbling on hands and knees over to him.

The fugitive's expression was unreadable, but warm, eyes shining with invitation and curiosity.

Curious to see how a man he so often had conflicts with, would deal with handing over his freedom of choice over, even if it was for a short amount of time.

Houston swallowed, feeling his throat bob against padded fabric and really took a moment to consider the situation; Hoxton was being awfully patient with him, for now. He was watching him with a look that could be mistaken for fondness, but from where the ghost was sitting he could see the glaring inquisitiveness behind it – it was his job to read people, to steal from them without getting caught.

And what threw Houston off, was the genuineness behind his eyes – rare was it that Hoxton became any sort of readable to him, the all too common snarl of his lips and furrow of his brow hiding far too much from him.

But now... it was different.

He let himself be read, and let himself be open with the ghost.

And that threw Houston for a loop.

Another sharp tug drew him forward, and the openness was gone, masked by a mischievous look he'd not seen on his face before and an amused curl of his lips.

“C'mon then ya fuckin' mutt, I don't have all bloody day” he drawled, leaning back and draping an arm along the couch. 

Docile, like a scolded puppy, Houston padded over and seated himself snug between Hoxton's spread legs, one hand curling up under his knee and the other tentatively drumming on the seat between his thighs. There was nervousness in his frame. Blue eyes peered down at him contentedly, and the Englishman relaxed back with chain in hand, tugging on it to get a point across.

Houston swallowed thickly at the hardening of his eyes, a trill of excitement snaking down his spine in the form of a shiver at the mock annoyance furrowing his brow.

“Oh for fuck sakes, do I 'ave teach ya how to bark too? Bit of a useless bitch of a dog ain't ya?” he said sharply, eyes narrowing in a glower “go on then, show me what sort of tricks you do know”


End file.
